Some Kind of Blind Love
by horseluvr4
Summary: Jackson sees April studying too hard and decides he needs to intervene. What will he do to get her to relax? And what does it set into motion for the two of them? Set loosely before boards. Title from the song "I Only Have Eyes For You" by Jamie Cullum. Epilogue up!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: My Japril muse hit again on the plane so I whipped this up (probably inspired by all the lovely reviews I've been getting—thank you so much, I cherish each and every one of them)! Not sure whether to write a follow-up or not, we'll see if I can think of something. I don't know if Jackson ever said he has a sister (I'm not fully caught up), so apologies if he doesn't. Also, I can't figure out to indent paragraphs on FF (does anyone know how?!), so sorry for the awful formatting. Please do review!

Disclaimer: I do not own _Grey's Anatomy_, or there would be more Japril fluff…obviously.

* * *

April stretched with a yawn, wincing as she heard the crack of her bones. She closed her eyes to rest them. _Just a minute_, she promised herself. _I'll be fine in a minute._

"Are you feeling okay, April?" Jackson's voice interrupted her thoughts, and she cracked open her eyes, managing to pull herself together enough to give him a wan smile.

"I'm fine, just a small headache," she replied, and Jackson jerked his head at the books spread out in front of her.

"Studying for boards again? April, you're going to run yourself down at this rate," Jackson said, his voice concerned.

She rubbed her temples and shrugged.

"It'll be worth it," she said decisively before picking up her highlighter again.

Jackson eyed her. She really did look tired, having just got back to the house from the hospital several hours ago. He had no idea how she was still up; he himself had crawled straight into bed for a nap, but then again, the study regime of April Kepner was legendary. Jackson remembered the first time she had been assigned to a case at Mercy West: she had managed to fall asleep on top of a color-coded binder of what-ifs that she had made, researched meticulously overnight to be prepared to scrub in the following day. It had been him who'd woken her up. He recalled the way she had blinked owlishly up at him before flying into a panic that she had fallen asleep. He had ended up quizzing her about the procedure to calm her down.

She had known every step, of course.

The thing with April, Jackson mused, was that her stubbornness knew no bounds. You had to blindside her to get her to drop something she'd set her mind to.

Looking at her now, her hair disheveled from running her hands repeatedly through it and her shoulders tense, he knew she needed a break. Even if she was determined not to.

Jackson clucked his tongue and reached over to pluck the highlighter from her hand. April let out an indignant squeal in reply.

"C'mon, up, up," he told her sternly, ignoring her protests.

"You know you're no good like this, you'll just panic more. Up," he said louder, and chivvied her out of the living room when she reluctantly stood up.

He herded her into the nearby bathroom, grabbing a chair along the way. He set it down with its back to the sink, and waved his hand towards it.

"Go on, sit down," he instructed, and she looked at him, puzzled.

"Jackson, what…"

"I'm going to wash your hair."

She blinked. Of all things, she hadn't expected _that_ to come out of his mouth.

He huffed at her incredulous stare.

"My sister used to make me do this all the time to get rid of headaches. Trust me, it'll help you relax, and that can't hurt right now."

He gestured to the chair again.

"Your chair awaits," he said with a teasing glint in his eyes, flashing her his trademark grin.

April complied warily, and Jackson grabbed a towel off the shelf, folding it neatly and draping it over the edge of the sink.

"I know it won't be as comfortable as the hairdresser's, but it'll have to do," he said apologetically. "Lean back," he added, and the soft tone of his voice caught her off-guard as she slowly tipped her head back until her neck hit the towel. She grimaced as the edge of the sink dug into her neck, and she squirmed down in the chair until she found a more comfortable spot.

Meanwhile, Jackson had located her shampoo, holding it up to her questioningly until she nodded. He came up beside her, setting the bottle down on the glass shelf attached to the mirror. He turned on the taps, testing the water until it warmed.

"Okay, are you ready for this?" His joking face appeared in her vision, and April smiled, bemused, and gave him a thumbs-up in response, wondering how she had got herself into this situation.

"Okay. Close your eyes," he instructed gently, and she obeyed instinctively.

She felt his large hands gently lift her head and smooth her hair back, and she had to bite back a gasp at how intimate the gesture felt, his fingers grazing the back of her neck. She heard gentle splashing and felt warm water being poured over her hair. The feeling his fingers combing through her hair was mesmerizing.

"Is the water too hot?" Jackson asked, and she had to force herself to reply.

"No, it's just right," she said, priding herself for how strong and normal her voice sounded, compared to how she felt like she was melting into his touch.

"Good." April could tell he was smiling from his tone.

She heard the squeeze of the shampoo bottle, and he began to wash her hair in earnest, his fingers dancing nimbly over her head, lathering up the shampoo. His movements slowed when he came to her ears, curling so carefully around them that it sent chills up her spine.

She couldn't remember a time when she'd been more relaxed and yet on edge, every nerve in her body tingling. The silence and darkness behind her eyelids made her focus on her other senses all the more: the crisp scent of cedar soap and linen that she associated with him, the gentle press of his thigh against her arm when he shifted beside her. She could even imagine the look of concentration on his face, his head tilted and his eyes blazing, that she had seen so many times during a surgical procedure.

April's lips quirked up in a smile at the recollection, and Jackson didn't miss it, his eyes flicking down from his soapy fingers to her peaceful face. He smiled to himself again, congratulating himself silently on a job well done.

He filled the sink with water, making sure to rinse her hair thoroughly. He couldn't stop himself from noticing how smooth and soft her skin was as he raised her head again with one hand, cupping water in his other hand to wash away soap suds at the base of her neck. She shivered ever so slightly under his fingertips.

Jackson drained the sink and squeezed the water out of her hair, marveling at how fine the strands were, before fetching another towel and starting to rub her hair dry. Once he thought it was dry enough, he hesitated. She still looked a bit tense, he decided, and he wondered whether her headache was still bothering her. Remembering how she had been rubbing her temples earlier, he laid his hands on either side of her temples and rubbed his thumbs in a small circular motion into the pulse-points.

At this, April let out a soft, involuntary noise, drawing Jackson's attention to her full mouth, her lips parted and her cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink.

For the first time, it dawned on him how intimate this was, the two of them alone, and their bodies touching, April's head in his hands. With her head tilted back and her eyes fluttering behind closed eyelids, it would be so easy to bend down and kiss her.

It scared Jackson how tempting, how _right_, that image seemed to him. His fingers pressed involuntarily into the grooves of her temples at the thought, and April let out the same soft noise she had made before. Jackson drew in a suddenly shaky breath.

_Don't do it_, he chanted to himself. _She trusts you. She didn't sign up for a kiss to be sprung on her. She's just expecting you to wash her hair, which she finds creepy as it is. She's stressed out about boards. You don't even know for sure if you like her that way. Don't confuse her. Or worse, make her feel uncomfortable around you. You can't take advantage of her like this._

It began to sound more like a litany of excuses.

And none of it stopped him from wanting her.

_Wait, what?_

His hands stilled.

He was just reeling from the realization when Alex walked by the open doorway and did a double-take, poking his head inside the bathroom.

"What the hell…?" Alex started to say, and April's eyes shot open. Jackson drew his hands away as if he'd been burned.

"Oh, noth – nothing, just Jackson being nice and washing my, um, hair," April stammered, bolting up and hastily wrapping the discarded towel around her head.

She turned to Jackson with wild eyes. "Thank you, Jackson, really, I – I feel much better now. I think I'll go and wash, no, dry, my hair," she squeaked, flustered, and fled speedily from the bathroom, her cheeks stained bright red.

Alex guffawed. "Washing her hair? I didn't know you were so hot for Kepner, dude! Kepner!"

Jackson glared at him.

"I was helping her relax. She's taking studying for boards too seriously," he defended himself sharply, restraining the urge to punch Alex.

"Whatever, just cash in her V-card already and get it out of your system," Alex sniggered, and carried on down the hallway, leaving Jackson standing alone in the bathroom, clenching his fists.

He felt disoriented and somehow cheated that the quiet peace had been shattered so harshly. What would he have said if they hadn't been interrupted? Hell, what would he have done?

Jackson recalled how April's breath had stuttered out from between her parted lips and groaned, sinking into the now-empty chair. The smell of her shampoo lingered still in the air. _Just how her hair would smell if he buried his face in the silky strands, his hand caressing the back of her beck that he had discovered was so sensitive to touch and pulling her closer together to him…_

A vivid image of how she would look lying under him with her red hair spilling over alabaster sheets, her cheeks the same shade of pale pink he had just seen, popped into his head, unbidden.

Jackson stared at the wall opposite him blankly without really seeing it.

He had a serious problem.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: The usual, I don't own _Grey's_, etc etc.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the reviews! It has persuaded me to carry on with this fic, though I am wary of starting a chapter fic as I don't know my schedule yet—I may not be able to update that frequently. I do, however, have the next chapter mostly written, and it's much better, so apologies in advance for er, all the leering. Just some April appreciation, because she's beautiful! And for the shortness of this chapter.

* * *

All things considered, Jackson had been doing well. It had been a week since the _incident_, as he called it in his head, and he had been religiously keeping his mind free of the gutter since. There had been some mutual unspoken agreement not to bring it up in conversation, and April for one didn't seem that fazed, jumping straight back into their normal routine. He could tell when she was flustered, but she didn't seem nervous around him. In short, there was no residual awkwardness, and Jackson wasn't sure whether he was irritated or pleased by it.

He was just mentally congratulating himself again for being a good person, a gentleman, the way he'd been brought up, when April walked into the kitchen.

"Morning," she greeted him brightly, and Jackson smiled at her in reply. She looked more casual than normal, opting for a simple, loose top over jeans, but he noted absent-mindedly that it did make sense on their day off. She rummaged in the fridge for milk, and then opened the cupboard where they kept bowls. She made a face when she realized her favorite cereal sat on the highest shelf.

"I was thinking I'd go shopping today, was there something you needed?" April tossed over her shoulder as she stood on her toes to reach the box.

Jackson was about to answer when she let out a small huff of annoyance, rocking back on her heels before reaching up again, her fingers scrabbling at the edge of the box.

Her gray top shifted with the movement and he watched, mesmerized, as it slipped off one shoulder, revealing creamy expanse of skin with the faintest dusting of freckles and a pink bra strap.

He hadn't realized a shoulder could be so damn sexy.

"Jackson?" April asked, and he realized that she had sat down opposite him, shaking cereal into her bowl happily.

He was lucky she hadn't caught him gaping at her like a fish out of the water.

"Oh, no, I think I'm good," he replied unsteadily, and hastily took another bite of his toast.

She still hadn't fixed her lopsided shirt.

_She's your best friend. Stop this. Right now._

"You don't really have to go shopping for us, we should do it ourselves," he said, casting about wildly for a topic to keep his mind occupied.

He wondered if she would make that soft sound that had haunted his dreams since last week if he kissed the hollow of her neck and drifted his lips across her delicate collar-bone…

_Damn it._

"It's OK, you big babies. I'm going out anyway," she said merrily, waving away his concerns. The teasing glint in her eyes was really not helping to distract him.

He was just contemplating whether he was a good enough actor to keep his mind on the conversation at hand when Meredith and Alex walked into the kitchen in search of their own breakfasts. As they greeted April, he couldn't help but track Alex's movements more than usual, but he didn't seem to treat her any differently than normal, just giving her a nod and making straight for the coffee pot.

Jackson's eyes narrowed.

How could Alex not notice? She had a bright pink bra strap hanging out, for crying out loud, when she was usually immaculately dressed, and he was a guy. Surely he would notice, and wonder exactly what she was wearing under that top, and whether the freckles on her shoulder continued further down…

He swallowed hard.

_Gentlemanly thoughts,_ he berated himself fiercely.

"Anyone in the shower?" he heard April ask Meredith, and Meredith shook her head.

"Great, dibs!" April chirped before putting her bowl in the dishwasher.

His eyes widened at the mental images that suddenly flooded his brain at the thought of April in the shower.

"I'll see you later, Jackson," she said with a friendly smile, lightly touching his shoulder before heading out of the room. He nodded swiftly, having never been gladder that she couldn't read his thoughts.

His inappropriate, beyond friendly thoughts.

She didn't know that his eyes tracked her out of the room.

"Dude, again? Keep your leering to a minimum," Alex interrupted his thoughts, and Meredith gasped, turning to Jackson.

"What? You like April? Since when has this been going on?"

Jackson groaned and let his forehead meet the table with a thud.

At this rate, everyone was going to know soon except her.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own _Grey's_. Also, this is sort of inspired from an episode ages ago about Izzie. You'll know which one when you read it.

A/N: Thank you for your continued support of this fic, though I do have to say, please, don't harangue me about speedy updates. It hurts my heart to hear them. I am a full-time university student and my workload is insane; I could go on about it forever but I'm really trying here to get both the time to write this and the ideas, because I don't want to write tired ideas I've come up with just so I can update. I'm sorry, but I promise I will do my best.

* * *

"Good morning, Mrs. Jennings, I'm Dr. Avery," Jackson said, flashing the elderly patient his winning smile. He was disgruntled about being on Bailey's service today instead of Mark's, but he knew he had to clock some hours outside of plastics, and he was lucky enough that Bailey had agreed to take him, albeit with a disinterested _humph_.

The white-haired woman lying in the hospital bed looked at him up and down with a severe expression. Her mouth twisted, and Jackson suddenly felt as if he had been tested and found wanting.

"Where's Dr. Bailey?" she asked suspiciously, and Jackson tried not to let his smile falter.

"She'll be along in due course. I'm the assisting resident on your case today, so I'll be running some tests, if that's okay?" He moved towards her, taking his stethoscope off from around his neck, and she visibly recoiled.

"No, I don't think so. Get me Dr. Bailey," she barked, and Jackson halted.

"Ma'am, it's just a few simple tests that I'm trained to do just as well as Dr. Bailey. She's a busy doctor, and she will appreciate it if I get started. She'll be here soon," Jackson attempted to reassure her, but she wasn't having any of it, and he had no idea why.

To his surprise, Mrs. Jennings scoffed, gesturing at him.

"What, a pretty boy like you?"

Jackson felt sick. Not one of those patients. Not today.

He was just about to reply when Dr. Bailey walked into the room.

"Avery? Why didn't you get started instead of waiting for me?" she asked sharply with a scowl, and he groaned mentally. Now he was going to get yelled at by Bailey, too.

"Ah, there you are, Dr. Bailey. May I have a word with you?" Mrs. Jennings interrupted, and Bailey turned to look at her, distracted.

"Certainly," she answered, waiting for Mrs. Jennings to continue. Mrs. Jennings pursed her lips, staring pointedly at Jackson.

"Alone?" Mrs. Jennings pressed, and Bailey's eyebrows rose.

"Oh, you can say anything in front of Dr. Avery, Mrs. Jennings. He's not one to gossip," Bailey told her matter-of-factly, and it made Jackson smile slightly even with his rapidly dampening spirits.

He knew what was coming, but it was nice to know that Bailey had his back.

"Fine. I would rather not have him on my case," Mrs. Jennings said, and Bailey's mouth almost fell open.

"Mrs. Jennings. Has Dr. Avery done something to upset you?" Bailey asked, quickly recovering from her surprise.

"No, but I don't think someone like him would be an efficient doctor," Mrs. Jennings said snappishly, her mouth stretched into a thin line of disapproval, and Jackson felt his frustration build.

Bailey still looked perplexed.

"I can assure you…" she started, but Jackson cut her off.

"She called me pretty. She thinks I don't look like a doctor should, so I'm not a good doctor and she would rather not have me in her surgery," Jackson said harshly, and Mrs. Jennings looked away.

Bailey crossed her arms, frowning.

"It's fine, I'll just go do the post-ops. Good day, Mrs. Jennings," Jackson said, making his voice as even as he could before he turned on his heel and walked quickly out of the room.

As he accepted the rest of Bailey's charts from the gaping nurse and started scanning them, he saw Bailey marching towards him out of the corner of his eye and sighed.

"What was that, Avery?" Bailey got straight to the point, shaking a finger at him. "You just accepted her rude comment and walked away! You left me with no choice but to accept her idiotic wishes."

Jackson closed his eyes for a second, his head throbbing.

"It's nothing I haven't had before. It was what she wanted, and you have to accede to the patient's wishes," Jackson muttered, and Bailey opened her mouth to scold him again.

"I appreciate what you're doing, Dr. Bailey, but it's fine. I'm sure someone else will be happy to scrub in with you. I'm going to go check on the other patients," Jackson said dully, leaving an annoyed Bailey behind.

* * *

"What's this about you getting kicked out off Bailey's case because you were too pretty for your own good?" Alex asked as he sat down for lunch, and Jackson glared at him.

"I didn't get kicked off, I walked away because that's what Mrs. Jennings wanted," Jackson said, frustrated.

"Seriously? She asked you to get off the case?" Cristina laughed incredulously.

"You know, if it was me, I'd rather have a hot doctor than not," Meredith chimed in, and Cristina gave her a nod of approval.

"Whatever, thanks for the surgery anyway," Alex said dismissively, and Cristina snickered.

"You got the surgery? Guess you're not pretty enough," Cristina taunted Alex.

"At least I've got a surgery," Alex retorted, scowling at her.

"Who's got a surgery?" April asked, setting her tray down on the table and sinking into her chair with a sigh. She had been running around the ER all morning and this was the first time she had been able to sit down.

"Bailey gave one to Alex because some old bird decided Pretty Boy there was too Abercrombie and Fitch," Cristina said, nodding to Jackson.

"What?" April turned to Jackson, and the distress in her eyes was too much. The last thing he needed was April's pity.

"It's _fine_," Jackson snapped, and immediately regretted it when April shrank back a little into her seat. He tried to convey his apology through his eyes, but she wouldn't look up from unwrapping her sandwich.

"Have you met her yet, Alex? Did she say anything to you?" Meredith was saying when Jackson tuned back into the conversation, his irritation back with a force.

"Nah, just a cranky normal patient," Alex said, shrugging.

"Must be the eyes," Cristina mused thoughtfully, "your eyes don't have, what did McSteamy call it? The sparkle. In a pretty-off, Avery would win."

"Makes sense," April agreed, and then blushed when Cristina and Meredith swiveled around to stare at her. Jackson hid a smile.

"There you go, Avery. Even virgin superwoman thinks you're pretty," Cristina said wryly, and April made a face at her.

As the conversation changed, it made Jackson feel slightly better that April's blush never went away.

* * *

"I'm so glad today's over," Jackson groaned, grabbing his shirt out of his locker and changing out of his scrubs in one swift motion. Everyone else had already left to go to Joe's, and it was just him and April in the locker room.

"Long day today," April agreed next to him as she tugged at the band holding her hair up in a ponytail, sighing with relief when her hair tumbled down around her shoulders.

Jackson caught a glimpse of it as his head emerged from his shirt and paused to admire her auburn hair as she ran a brush through it quickly, remembering the silky feel of it against his fingers.

He snapped back to when he realized she was looking at him expectantly.

"Um, what was that?" Jackson asked sheepishly.

"I just asked if you were okay," April said softly, looking up at him. "Today must have been hard for you."

He sighed, passing a hand over his head. "It was, but I don't have to see her again. It's okay."

She hesitated, a pensive expression on her face, before asking.

"Why didn't you argue with her, Jackson?"

He stayed silent.

"You're an excellent doctor, you know that, don't you?"

She sounded so assured, so sure, that it made him almost believe her.

"All my life I've been treated as a pretty face. With my family, I told you. I guess I'm used to not arguing back, because they would've just, I don't know, pinched my cheek or something and sent me off. I guess it's habit now to just walk away." He kept his gaze fixed on the inside of his locker.

"Jackson."

He looked at her then, his hands shaking, and he was thrown by the tenderness in her eyes that he had never seen there before.

He only had one moment to contemplate it before she stepped towards him and wrapped her arms around him tightly, tucking her head under his. He exhaled in surprise. When she didn't let go after a heartbeat, Jackson tentatively settled his arms around her slim figure, drawing her close to him.

She fitted perfectly in his arms.

"Don't walk away, Jackson. Promise me you'll make a stand if it happens again, because you can't let it keep you from being the amazing doctor you are," she said fiercely, shifting to look at him.

He had to smile at her serious expression.

It was one of the best things about April, that she was so caring. That she was adamant in believing the best in people. In seeing the best of people.

"I promise," he said, and April beamed more brightly than usual at him.

"Okay then. Joe's?" she suggested, letting go of him. He instantly missed holding her.

"Sure," he agreed readily, shoving his hands into his pockets.

As they walked out together, April rambling about the patients she had had that day with a sunny smile, Jackson had to admit that nothing felt unachievable with April Kepner by his side.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Still don't own _Grey's_. Or, for that matter, the lovely "There's A Girl" by the Ditty Bops.

A/N: Inspired by the clips I saw recently of Sarah Drew singing at the benefit concert that Grey's Anatomy held last year. Does she have a pretty voice or what?! She should've sung more in the musical episode! On another note, I think I'm spotting an ending, maybe two chapters later. We'll see. Please do review, but as I'm behind on season 9, **no spoilers**_**, **_please! Thank you!

* * *

April was a morning person. Jackson knew that, and yet, in his groggy state in the morning, stumbling out of the shower, he simply couldn't fathom how she could be so perky.

"Is that Kepner singing?" Alex groaned, scrubbing at his eyes as he shoved past Jackson, who was now brushing his teeth with a towel wrapped around his waist, to get to the empty shower.

Jackson shrugged in reply.

"Make her shut up, I can hear her from my room. She's your crazy chick. It's too early," Alex complained, and Jackson's hand with the toothbrush paused.

_It doesn't sound so bad, _he thought, _Alex talking like I'm with April. In fact, it sounds – good._

He had been having too many thoughts like this recently, he decided, as he shook his head at his reflection and resumed brushing his teeth.

Did he really want to be in a relationship with April?

Living in the same house with her was starting to make him wonder why he'd ever had any issues with falling for April in the first place.

* * *

"_There's a girl that you might know, she's a friend, at least I tell you so, but it might surprise you to find, there's something going on behind the door,_" April sang happily, emptying the dirty contents of the laundry basket into the washing machine and closing the door with a pat.

She tipped some detergent into the machine and pressed the start button with a flourish. _The boys really should learn to do their own laundry,_ she thought ruefully, but she didn't really mind. It made her feel a bit important in a way, that they relied on her to get by. She had always liked helping people, however small the gesture was. In fact, she thought small, everyday gestures proved to be kinder than large, once-in-a-blue-moon gestures.

"_When I'm asleep, it gives me time to think, thoughts that I wouldn't dare speak aloud, I couldn't bare myself before a crowd_," she resumed singing, plucking a dry shirt of hers from the washing line strung out across the small room. She had always liked singing. It had made her chores go faster when she was younger, and it had become a habit by now.

April glanced at her watch, and decided she could still spare some time before going down to have some breakfast before work. Humming to herself, she picked up the laundry basket and got to work.

* * *

Leaving his room after getting dressed, Jackson tracked April's singing to the laundry room out of curiosity. When he got to the open doorway, the sight that greeted him made him grin.

April seemed to be taking all the dry clothes off the washing line, running her hand lightly over the item in question to check if it was indeed dry before dropping them in the half-full laundry basket that she had perched on her hip.

Something made him hang back a little. She hadn't noticed his presence yet, and there was a confidence in the way she held herself that rarely came to the fore around the others.

A confident April was, without question, hot.

She hummed under her breath as she checked a printed T-shirt draped over the washing line that he recognized as his. He could just imagine her hand dancing over his shirt like that while he was wearing it, pushing up the hem so that she could slide her hands up over his abdomen to explore his chest…

He blinked as if coming out of a hypnotic trance when she tugged the shirt off the line and let it fall into her basket.

Well, he was never going to look at that T-shirt the same way again.

Her humming grew louder.

"_I bide my time while biting my tongue, hold closed my mouth so song is unsung,_" April suddenly started singing in a clear, sweet voice. He had to bite back a chuckle when she abandoned the chore and spun in a circle on the spot, the hand that wasn't holding the basket tapping out the beat against her side, before she started bopping her head to the song. He couldn't find it in himself to interrupt the adorable scene.

Was she doing a shoulder shimmy?

"_Get to the meat of things already, with buried secrets the ground is heavyyyy,_" she closed her eyes and dragged out the last note, swaying her hips slightly from side to side, and Jackson raised an eyebrow, impressed. She was a good singer.

His eyes lingered on her hips.

"_That's just the way things used to be, that's just the waaaay,_" she threw her head back dramatically when she finished the note, her glossy hair swishing behind her, and Jackson swallowed at the sight of the graceful curve of her neck, "_things used to be_."

He thought he spotted a flicker of intensity in her eyes beneath the comical exaggeration for just one second before it slipped away again.

"_There's a girl who's close to me, closer than you'd like to think, dig up all the dirt you see, there's always more just underneath,_" she sang, and there was a note of wistfulness in her voice.

Jackson was just debating whether he should go into the room or not; it wasn't as if he had anything in particular to say to April. Feeling it would be awkward if he just barged in now, he was turning around to leave when his watch beeped the hour. Loudly.

_Shit._

April froze.

Jackson poked a sheepish head around the frame of the door.

"Sorry, I was just coming to get you. It's 7, if you want to grab breakfast, you'd better hurry," he said, coming up quickly with an excuse. It was a weak one if she asked him what he had been doing loitering outside the door, but he thought she might overlook it in her lateness.

Sure enough, April instantly looked flustered.

"Oh, darn it, I didn't realize it was already 7! I'll just go put these in my room and then head down," she said hurriedly, hoisting the laundry basket higher and zipping towards the door.

"Thanks!" she said, pausing for a moment to meet his eyes.

"You're welcome," he replied automatically.

"I got some of your dry stuff too, so I'll get them to you later," she promised over her shoulder as she dashed past Jackson.

She turned around at the end of the hallway.

"You should sing with me next time, you know. It's only polite," she called to him, tilting her head to the side with an impish glint in her eyes, before ducking into her room. He stared after her, astonished.

He had no idea how, but even after all these years of knowing her, April still managed to surprise him every day.

_"There's always more just underneath."_

And so there was.

He wanted a relationship with April.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own _Grey's_, though I borrowed their lines from 6x24.

A/N: Disheartened by the severe plunge the number of my reviews took with my last chapter—was it that bad?! Shout-out to my readers naz-writer, Hidge, and AppleSa who reviewed every chapter, thank you so much! And I may not be able to update for the next few days because I have three 5,000 word essays to research and write by Wednesday, just a head's up! Hope this tides you over.

I apologize in advance for this, as I know none of us watched the season 6 finale without crying. I don't know whether I can do Sarah Drew's acting justice, but the idea refused to leave until I tried.

* * *

_All she could hear was a dull ringing in her ears and the ragged sounds of her frantic breathing as she lifted her eyes to meet the cold eyes of Gary Clark._

_ The gun, she thought dazedly, the gun that had just shot Derek in front of her, the gun that had shot Reed, the gun that was pointed straight at her, wavering in Clark's hand, his finger tightening on the trigger…_

_ She didn't know how she had got herself into this hell, but she knew with a strange, sickening clarity that she was going to die, this very moment, and the only screaming thought leaping out from the crazy whirlwind that was her thoughts was that she was not ready to die._

_ This was Reed's murderer, and she should be angry, she _was_ furious at him for taking her best friend away without a second thought, but all she could feel was an all-consuming fear._

_ She raised her hands shakily as words started tumbling out of her mouth before she knew what she was doing._

_ "My name…my name is April Kepner, I'm 28 years old, I…I was born on April 23__rd__, in – in Ohio. I'm from C-Columbus, Ohio." She whimpered at herself, her tongue wetting her dry lips, knowing it was futile and yet…he hadn't shot her. "My mom, my mom is a teacher, and my dad is a farmer. Corn. He, he grows corn. Their names are Karen and Joe. I have three sisters, Libby's the oldest and I'm next and Kimmie and Alice. And I," her voice broke but she continued doggedly on, "I haven't done anything yet. I haven't – I've barely lived!" She drew in a desperate breath. _

"_I'm not finished and no one's loved me yet, I haven't done anything yet. Please, please," she begged, her eyes filling with unshed tears that she couldn't brush away, "I'm someone's child! I'm a person," Gary Clark's face was twitching as she repeated, "I'm a person!" _

_ She watched, suspended in terror, as his mouth opened._

_"Run."_

* * *

Jackson was walking down the darkened hallway of the house to get a drink of water when he heard ragged sobbing coming from someone's room. He stood still for a moment, still half-asleep, until it dawned on him that it was April's room.

Without a second thought, he pushed open the door.

April was curled up in a ball on her bed, her hands gripping the comforter tightly to her. He called out to her but she didn't answer.

It was only when he drew closer to her that he realized she was murmuring words to herself, still fast asleep.

"Three sisters…I'm next…Kimmie and Alice."

It sounded like normal, but there was something so desperate in her tone that it broke his heart. He sat on the edge of her bed, his hand reaching out to her shoulder to wake her up, when she jerked, curling up even more.

"I haven't done anything yet. I haven't – I've barely lived!"

He flinched. He had never heard her so frantic this before, and it chilled him to his bones.

"April, wake up, it's just a dream," he tried, shaking her shoulder, but she twisted away from his touch.

"No one's loved me yet…please," her voice dropped down to a whimper again, and he felt as if he had been punched at the tone of her voice. She was begging. This wasn't an ordinary dream, it seemed more like a memory. A very private memory.

And he shouldn't be hearing any of it.

"April, wake up!" Jackson said loudly, shaking her shoulder harder, and he watched in relief as her eyes finally snapped open. His relief was short-lived when her gaze flickered around the room unseeingly, disoriented.

They were also brimming full of tears.

"It was just a dream. I'm here. You're at home, you're safe, April," he said evenly, trying to reassure her.

"Jackson?" She faltered on the last syllable of his name, her voice small, and he saw how she was still clutching at her covers, her breathing rapid.

"You're okay. You were just having a nightmare," Jackson repeated softly, and she stifled a choked sob, pressing her hand to her mouth. Without another word, he scooted closer to her and wrapped her in his arms, rocking her back and forth when she started crying in earnest.

He didn't know how long he sat there, one hand rubbing comforting circles on her back and the other arm circling her tightly, but as her tears started slowing down and she started hiccupping, he realized she was murmuring something over and over into his T-shirt.

"April?" he asked gently, and she looked up at him, her cheeks stained with tears. He averted his eyes, unable to stand the misery swimming in her eyes, and focused on tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. Her arms around his neck tightened, and he waited.

"I'm a person. I'm a person, right?" she asked finally, her voice cracking. Her eyes were desperately pleading with him for _something_, and he felt a pang of frustration that he didn't know what she needed, when he usually did. He couldn't figure her out this time, but for some reason, it felt like she was asking for more than the answer to a bizarre question. Somehow, it felt as if he was standing on the precipice, and one misstep could send him toppling off the cliff.

"You are to me," Jackson answered simply, his eyes steadfast. She exhaled roughly, and broke their gaze, turning her head to the side. Silence settled on the room, and Jackson wondered if she wanted him to go, now that she was awake and had stopped crying. Perhaps she felt awkward with him there, reminding her of the dream that she had had to be pulled out of.

He was just about to ask her if she wanted him to leave when she spoke.

"I was back at the hospital when Gary Clark was pointing his gun at me."

Jackson's heart sank. She had never told him about it before; it wasn't something that just came up in conversation. When they had comforted each other after the shooting, it had always been about grieving for their friends. For Charles and Reed. They had never discussed what had happened before she and Cristina had found him, before they had found themselves prepping for surgery with Derek lying open on the operating table.

"He had just shot Derek, because I was looking for him. Because I ran out to talk to him. He was lowering his gun, I saw that the split second afterwards when Derek was on the floor, but I…I ran out, and Derek got shot."

Her voice was hesitant but detached, almost clinical, and that hurt Jackson almost as much as the fact that she had witnessed Derek's injury point-blank: that she physically couldn't tell him what had happened unless she was telling it like a story that had happened to someone else. A story that she didn't carry on her shoulders every day.

He couldn't keep his eyes off her fragile profile.

"He pointed the gun at me, and I couldn't…Reed was d-dead and I just, I begged him not to shoot me. I gave him pieces of my life and had to beg _him_ to let me live."

Her shoulders started shaking again, but Jackson couldn't move, afraid to stop her. Afraid to breathe. It seemed like she needed to get the story out, now that she had started, and he would be damned if he stopped her just because it frightened him now that someone so important to him had been so close to death. Because she was more than an attractive woman he had begun to notice recently; she was someone who he caved and always ended up telling everything to, not just because she listened, but because she was the one person he wanted to share things with, the first person you instinctively sought when you had something you wanted to shout from the rooftops and when you wanted to hide from the world. With a jolt, he realized that he didn't know how he would have survived the aftermath of the shooting without her by his side.

She was more than a person. She was his person.

He had to face it. He didn't know how to live without her anymore, and that terrified him more than anything else. What if she had been shot? What if, even after he had finally realized how he felt about her, she fell in love with someone else? His gut churned.

_Now is not the time,_ he reminded himself, pushing his spinning thoughts away.

The words he had heard before suddenly made sense now.

_ "I haven't done anything yet. I haven't – I've barely lived!"_

As irrational and impossible as it was, he would have done anything to switch places with her, had he known how she had suffered. How she still suffered.

Didn't they all?

April laughed shortly.

"It's not fair. It's not fair they were all shot and I got away. He let me go because I saw on Oprah once that shooters are less likely to kill you when they know personal details about you. When they think you're a person. It's not fair I got the chance to have my life, for the same reasons everyone else should have lived."

She fell silent, and a tear slipped down her cheek.

"It's not your fault," Jackson said quietly, and she turned to look at him with an unfathomable look in her eyes.

He wasn't entirely sure what she needed to hear, but he would go with honesty. April had always respected honesty.

"I wasn't there, I can't fully understand so you might not believe me. But for what it's worth, I'm glad he got to know you. Because once people know you, they can't imagine wanting to hurt you. Because you make them see the truth, the humanity, in everything. You made Gary Clark see, for just a second, what he was doing, and why it was wrong. And you shouldn't feel guilty about being yourself."

Another tear cascaded down her cheek, and Jackson wiped it away, his thumb lingering on her face.

"You're a person," he told her intently, and her face crumpled again.

Jackson held her, stroking her hair, until she cried herself out and her breathing started to even out. He thought fleetingly about going back to his room, but he was afraid she would have the same nightmare without him there to wake her up. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel alone. As he eased themselves back until they were lying down, April still in his arms, he felt her hand grab sleepily at his.

"Thank you."

As they drifted to sleep, their hands remained interlocked.

_No one's loved me yet._


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I wish I owned _Grey's_. Then I wouldn't have so much work.

A/N: I am beyond amazed and honored by so many reviews on my last chapter. I am so grateful to everyone! As a thank you, I have an update for you…and the news that actually, it might go on longer than I thought, as I just had some new ideas. Now I'm off to bed as it's almost 4 a.m. and I have to get up at 8 to read and write another essay…also, I hope you don't hate my April, I thought it was necessary. The course of true love ne'er did run smooth.

* * *

The trouble with nightmares wasn't their immediate aftermath, as bad as that was. It was the morning after, when the dark hush of the night that came from revealing sides of yourself you had never expected to show broke with the morning light, bright and new, making you feel foolish. The sun ushered in doubt. You started asking yourself why everything had come crashing down, why your world had seemed to be crumbling around you.

Jackson moodily shoved his bag into his locker with a bang, wondering how everything had turned so sour all of a sudden. He sighed when the loud noise only resulted in people staring at him. He certainly didn't feel any better.

_ Sure, April had had a nightmare, and he had stayed to comfort her, and they were just friends, but he hadn't expected to roll over to stop the beeping alarm that didn't sound like his own and find her side of the bed cold._

_ He hadn't expected her to just be gone._

_ By the time his brain had wrapped its mind around it and he had made his way downstairs to the kitchen, he was feeling irritated. _

_ "Oh, hey, Jackson. I was just about to head out with Meredith, but Alex's still around so you can probably catch a ride with him," April greeted him cheerfully, her usual bright smile in place as she fixed herself coffee to go, and Jackson blinked._

_ So we're back to this, Jackson thought, back to pretending nothing happened._

_ It was just the way it was after every intimate moment they had together, every time he thought they were slipping slowly but steadily out of the friend zone._

_ For some reason, it hurt a lot more than he had expected this time._

_ She was still waiting for his answer. Were her hands purposefully slow in fixing the lid on her thermos? Or was he just imagining it?_

_ "Yeah, sure," he muttered, and she nodded briskly. _

_ Were her shoulders more tense than normal?_

_ Her fingers tapped impatiently on the counter-top._

_ She was definitely nervous._

_ "I'll see you later then," she said after an awkward pause, and she jerked her head up in what seemed to be an attempt to meet his eyes._

_ Watching her back disappear from the open doorway, Jackson scowled._

_ If she wanted to play it that way, fine. He'd play along._

His pager went off, and his black mood lifted momentarily. Surgery, even with Dr. Bailey, would keep his mind off how crazy April drove him. His day couldn't possibly get worse than it already was.

* * *

Of course, it had been just his luck that the surgery was on April's patient from the ER, who she had become attached to. And of course, it had been his luck that the patient was still a kid, so he had to watch the woman he was pretty sure he was falling in love with moon over a fairly young girl and wonder what kind of mother she would be without getting caught.

The fact that Karev had been in the OR with him did not help. Jackson was certain he had caught Alex smirking at him several times.

Still, the surgery had gone well, and he had also gotten to take the lead on a part of the complicated procedure successfully, even with Karev protesting loudly to Dr. Robbins that it should have been his.

At least he hadn't screwed up in front of her, on top of everything.

As he followed Alex and April out of the OR, taking off his cover-all and stuffing it in the bin, he was so lost in his thoughts that he started when he caught his name in the conversation.

"Don't be silly, of course Jackson and I are friends. Aren't we, Jackson?" April asked brightly, and Jackson's automatic "yes" caught in his throat at her wide-eyed, expectant look.

This certainly wasn't how he had envisioned telling her about his feelings, scrubbing out of surgery with Alex in their company, but Jackson wasn't one for lying. It wouldn't be fair to April to keep ignoring his growing feelings for her, because what did that say about her? That she didn't deserve to be told what an amazing woman she was? He was tired of pretending that he didn't care about being pushed away.

His panicked gaze shot to Alex, whose shoulders were shaking in silent laughter. _Of course he would be laughing, the bastard._

He hadn't expected to turn back to April and see her expressive eyes brimming with hurt.

His stomach sank dully.

_Oh no. Oh no._

"April," he began to say, his voice coming out higher than normal in his agitation, but she shook her head fiercely.

"No, Jackson. Just leave it," she said quietly, and the anguish underlying her voice felt like a knife twisting in his heart.

"No, April, just listen to me, please – "

She turned and walked out of the room.

"Damn it!" Jackson swore loudly, and slammed his hand down on the tap to stop the water.

"I was going to tell her, but you had to ruin it. Now she thinks I don't even think we're friends! I didn't need this right now. What the hell were you thinking?" Jackson shouted at Alex, glaring fiercely at him, his chest heaving with his frustrated breaths.

"You were the one who choked. So go after her and tell her that. Why are you still here yelling at me?" Alex asked him plainly, and Jackson swore again before turning and sprinting from the room.

* * *

He finally tracked her down in the supply closet, methodically picking up bandages and re-stacking them.

"What do you want, Jackson?" Her voice sounded tired.

"April, I didn't mean that I thought we weren't friends. I've never thought we weren't friends," Jackson said plaintively, knowing she was still angry at him.

"You could've fooled me," she said bitterly, and he reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, murmuring her name. She whirled around to glare at him.

"You know what, it hurt. It hurt because you hesitated. You hesitated where it should've been an easy answer. So no, you do _not_ get to 'April' me."

The ice in her tone made all the frustration that had been steadily building up since the moment he woke up unfurl in his chest once again, and Jackson finally snapped.

"What about my feelings, then? When are we going to take them into consideration?" He shot back heatedly, and April frowned in confusion.

"What do you mean – "

"That." He pointed at her, and April flinched. "That's exactly what I mean. You always pretend like there's nothing going on! What was that this morning? 'I was just about to head out with Meredith'? Why don't we talk honestly about you, April?"

She flushed, but she didn't cower under his challenging stare, standing her ground.

"About what, Jackson? How I still have nightmares and it's been _months_? How I'll probably have them my whole life? There. There you go. Are you happy now? Will you stop being so stroppy?" she retorted, ending with a half-shout, her voice rising to match his.

Jackson stared at her, his anger ebbing as rapidly as it had come.

She looked so upset, her hands clenched into fists by her side, and he realized with a jolt that he had made her that way.

He opened his mouth to apologize when she cut him off.

"I was embarrassed, okay? It was the first time anyone had seen me breaking down about it since…since that day, and I felt stupid. So I just…ignored it. I guess I thought that if I acted like I was fine, I would be," she said flatly, her lips twisting.

Her shoulders sagged.

"And I'm always been honest with you," she added softly, looking down to fiddle with the hem of her scrubs, and Jackson's heart lurched.

Now. He didn't know why, but he had to tell her now, or he never would.

It felt right.

"I haven't."

He took a step closer to her, and she looked up at him, startled.

"I can't stop thinking about you. How you'd look first thing in the morning. How you'd stretch and curl up to savor just one more second in bed before you get up like you do after a nap." Another step. "How you shivered when I touched your neck and whether you'd make that soft sound again if I kissed you." Her eyes were impossibly wide, and he could see shock reflected in them, but he pressed on daringly. She took a step back and he followed. "How you know exactly what to do to turn a bad day around. How you dance when no one's watching." His lips quirked. "And most recently, how you'd fret and coddle your children." Her mouth fell open in an O, and she rubbed the palms of her hands against her sides nervously.

"So…we're not friends?" April asked unsteadily, and he shook his head slowly, reaching out to caress her cheek. His hand slipped down to stroke her jaw-line, and she swallowed. He let his hand slip behind her neck as she shivered, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes. Taking that as a good sign, he leaned in so that his lips were inches away from hers.

"I don't think we've been just friends for a long time, April," he murmured roughly, and his gaze flickered up from her lips, so close he could feel the tiny puffs of air she was breathing out on his lips, to her brown eyes, wanting her reassurance before they crossed the line.

Her gaze dropped to his lips before fluttering shut.

He closed the distance between them slowly, giving her time to back away if she wanted, but she stayed stock still.

In his daydreams, he had fantasized what April's kiss would be like, but the second their lips met, he knew he had misjudged her.

She didn't kiss like he thought she would; there was no girlish hesitance, no tentative press of her lips against his. Instead, her kiss was fiery and sure, with no hint of daisies and sunshine—_far from innocent,_ he thought dazedly. Her hand began toying with the curls at the base of his neck and he exhaled into the kiss, pressing himself closer to her. She stumbled back, caught off-guard at the sudden shift of their bodies, and her back hit the wall as she deepened the kiss, arching into him. He let his hands fall to her hips.

Jackson pulled back for a breath and April whimpered, tugging at the back of his shirt to come back. He kissed her again, capturing her bottom lip between his, before he let his lips drift down to her neck. Her hands fisted in his shirt as he peppered kisses down to the hollow of her throat. When he nosed aside the V of her scrubs to kiss her collar-bone, she let out the soft, breathy noise she had made before, and he smiled against her skin.

The sound of the pager rang through the room, startling them both.

April's hands flew immediately down to her pager as Jackson groaned, setting his hands on the wall on either side of her, not trusting himself not to kiss her again as he watched her scan the page quickly.

"I, um, I have to go. It's Hunt, he needs me in the ER again," April said quietly, and Jackson nodded.

"Of course."

He pushed himself back off the wall, falling back as April straightened her collar with a blush.

"So, um…" she stuttered as he watched her carefully, unsure what she would do. She had certainly been an avid participant in the kissing, but April had never been one for confrontations, and he had no idea how she would react.

Did she even like him the way he did?

The question lodged itself in his throat and he willed for it to come out, to say anything, but his throat was dry.

The awkwardness in the room thickened intensely with every second of silence.

"I have to go," she repeated, and he felt his chest constrict.

She was running away again.

"Are we going to talk about this?" he asked her urgently, holding his breath.

Her pager beeped again and she looked down at it, distracted.

"I don't…Jackson, I can't right now," she said, her voice hitching, and Jackson watched as April left him for the second time that day, her lab coat swishing around the doorjamb as she broke out into a run just outside the room.

He had been wrong.

His day had gotten worse.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: For the millionth time, I do not own _Grey's_. I did borrow some epic epic speeches that I could never write from it…references to two of my favorite scenes, ever, people.

A/N: So I'm totally gonna fail my degree. Oh, the guilt. I'm going to regret spending so much time on this now, two days before my deadline…right, you'll see more of me after this essay is done. OK. Rant over. And I thought it was about time I tried an April POV, though it was really difficult. I haven't edited this so much, so it may seem choppy…and is it too sappy? Sorry!

* * *

April nursed her second glass of whiskey in her hand, staring down at it glumly. Around her, the patrons of Joe's bar chattered noisily and a competitive game of darts was in full swing, but she didn't hear any of it.

The last time she had felt like this in this bar, she had been getting crap from Alex about still being a virgin. She scoffed, remembering how irritated she had been at Alex, but that was nothing new. She had come to expect that from her short time at Seattle Grace, but what she hadn't expected was the hope welling up inside her at the thought that someone understood her when Jackson told her there was no shame in it. But that had been crushed all too soon afterwards.

His "no, there's shame" had been more of a slap in the face than even Lexie's mocking laugh. He was supposed to be on her side, and she had relished the look of contrition on his face after she finally blew up, even if she had had to stoop to bringing up his nightmares.

She grimaced down at her drink. It hadn't been one of her brightest moments.

Then again, she had many more contenders for that crown.

Like this afternoon.

The memory of that series of kisses flashed into her head, making her feel momentarily light-headed.

She had always found Jackson attractive, but she had never been one to act on her attraction; it was a bad idea. Like that one night in the locker-room in her first intern year, when she had thrown herself at a fellow intern who she thought liked her back as they were finishing their shift. April slouched on her stool, taking a deep gulp of her drink and savoring the burn at the back of her throat as she suppressed the memory of the mortification she'd felt when he had laughed cruelly in her face that he was out of her league.

Jackson Avery was most certainly out of the leagues for the likes of April Kepner, and he would realize that soon enough. She thought dolefully that she was better off hiding until he snapped out of the post-Lexie craziness that had entered his brain. Even somewhere as obvious as the bar they usually frequented.

It was only her tipsiness that allowed herself to acknowledge that a tiny, irrational part of her wanted him to find her.

More than a tiny part.

But what would that do? She couldn't think rationally around him, especially now. Nerves, combined with alcohol, made her a basket case and even more socially awkward than usual, with little inhibitions.

And what she really wanted right now was to kiss Jackson again.

For a second, she had had a glimpse at what those annoying couples who claimed they "just knew" they were meant for each other were talking about, the kind she had always written off as impossible. No one just _knew_ it was love.

She downed her drink and called out quickly to Joe to get her another. He eyed her askance but complied, pushing a glass over to her that she grabbed eagerly.

The stern look on his face as he told her that he was cutting her off reminded her all of a sudden of Dr. Bailey's drunken admonishment months ago.

_"You take your maiden voyage with a nice boy. A kind boy. A boy who loves you. A boy that you love so much you want to superglue yourself to him. You wait. And you keep your knees together. And believe me, even though you haven't met your Ben yet, you will meet your Ben. Not my Ben, but your own Ben. Who might or might not be called Ben."_

April jerked upright, tracing the rim of her glass absent-mindedly.

What if she had found her Ben?

But maybe she was getting ahead of herself. It wasn't like he had pledged his eternal love on bent knee and offered her a big wedding with butterflies.

Then why was her stomach swooping at the thought of Jackson, clad in a tux and waiting for her at the end of the aisle with that irresistible smile on his face?

She was self-destructing, the way she always did. Her sisters had nagged at her for years that she over-analyzed everything to death, and she knew they were right. It didn't have to be this complicated. It was just a guy.

A guy who was her pillar of strength, who knew her inside out from all her rambling, who had seen her at her most vulnerable but had still stayed, who was devastatingly handsome and so charming that he could elicit unrestrained laughter from her even at the end of a grueling day. A guy who had told her in no uncertain terms that he wanted her and proceeded to take her breath away with his kiss.

Someone who she had never thought she had a chance with, for all that she was his best friend. He could have—_and should have,_ April thought fiercely—the best woman in the world, not a train-wreck with a barrage of insecurities just hovering out of sight.

It felt too complicated for 9 p.m. on a Friday night, but she knew with certainty that she didn't deserve him.

But would she have the will to push him away, to do the right thing? Would she be able to do it, even at the expense of their friendship? She couldn't imagine they would ever be able to go back to the easy relationship they'd had of trusting each other implicitly.

She had already proven that she had no restraint when it came to him. She had known she should have pushed him away when he'd given her the chance to, but deep inside, she hadn't wanted to. Because even after all the evidence to the contrary that she had faced so far when it came to love, she still believed in the fairy tale.

_"A boy that you love so much you want to superglue yourself to him."_

She realized she was mumbling out loud to herself when Joe called out her name loudly.

"April. APRIL."

She looked up with a frown. When had she had the rest of her drink?

"I called for someone to take you home, okay?" Joe said, leaning over the counter with concern written over his face. He had served most of the doctors at the hospital over the years, but Dr. Kepner wasn't one to come in regularly to drown her sorrows in alcohol. He couldn't remember if he'd ever seen her so drunk before.

"You didn't have to do that for me, I'm not that drunk," April argued, slipping off her bar stool. She wobbled precariously, and the look of surprise on her face was so comical that Joe would have laughed had she not looked so dismayed.

"Oh no. Now they're going to mock me for being a lightweight," she moaned, bracing herself against the counter and hanging her head.

"Wait, Joe. Who did you call?" she asked suddenly, raising narrowed eyes to the amused bartender's.

The bell attached to the door rang merrily, and she craned her head around to see Jackson striding towards her with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Shit," April cursed under her breath, turning back to glare at Joe, who only shrugged apologetically.

She stiffened when she felt Jackson come to a stop beside her, not daring to raise her hanging head and look at him. _Sober up,_ she scolded herself, _don't say anything stupid._

He was bound to be angry; she had walked out on him, after all, even though she had had a legitimate obligation to. She was a doctor. She saved lives.

"Come on, let's get you home."

His voice betrayed little emotion, and she gulped.

"No, it's fine, I can make my way home," she said feebly, and she heard him sigh.

"I was heading back anyway. Just come with me, April," Jackson coaxed, and she thought she detected a hint of rueful amusement disguised in his tired voice, the way he usually sounded when she was being stubborn.

She had hurt him, but he still cared about her.

How was that even possible?

She needed him to stay even when she told him not to, and it scared her more than anything. She needed him to fight for her, because she couldn't ask him to.

When had she become so dependent on him?

"April."

There was an ache in the way he said her name that she couldn't ignore.

She took a deep breath and pushed herself off the counter, managing to stand on her feet better this time as she surveyed him. His clothes were rumpled as if he had been sleeping on them, and she felt a pang in her heart when he refused to meet her eyes.

Seeing him so uncertain was unsettling. Did he feel like this every time he comforted her?

"Let's go," she murmured, turning towards the door and waiting for Jackson, who quietly thanked Joe for calling him.

As they were leaving, April's heart skipped a beat when Jackson's hand slipped under her elbow to support her.

Who was she kidding? She might as well admit that her denial was no match for him.

She was a lost case.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Essays are done, people! Thank you for your reviews and kind support, and sorry for the long wait! I really appreciate your patience. This chapter's fairly short but I hope it's okay all the same…it's kind of the calm before the storm.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, nor do I own _Grey's_.

* * *

The drive home was silent.

Jackson snuck a quick peek at April's profile out of the corner of his eye. She wasn't bouncing with energy like she normally did when she was drunk. She just looked…miserable.

Well, that was new.

He wanted to ask her why she'd chosen today to go get smashed, but he was worried that it meant she had wanted to forget about the kiss. He had hoped to catch her at home after their shift to talk about it and what it meant for them, but he knew it was out of the question now. It was too important a conversation to have while she was drunk. He would just have to wait.

He deliberately chose not to think about what barriers she would undoubtedly have built between them by the next morning.

They were almost home by the time April suddenly broke the silence.

"Do you think I'm too idealistic?"

It was an odd question to ask, but he supposed she could get away with it, being intoxicated; who knew what she was thinking?

Apparently he had waited too long to answer, because she carried on.

"I didn't think Robert had, you know, more than friendly motives. He didn't act sleazy around me or anything, or give me looks."

Jackson snorted. Dr. Stark had never been nice to anyone except her, that much had been obvious.

"I think I'm emotionally stunted," April said definitively, crossing her arms angrily, and as weirded out that she was talking about another guy in front of him, Jackson had to laugh aloud at this. How had she got to that from her experience with Dr. Stark? It was a classic non-sequitur April Kepner statement.

"What? Jackson, it's not funny!" she protested solemnly, and he tried to stop laughing for her sake.

"Go on then, tell me why you're emotionally stunted," Jackson said, smiling, deciding to play along. April's moods were unpredictable when she was drunk, and it was much more entertaining to listen to her cross-examine herself than start sulking.

"I don't like big gestures, they feel forced. Girls like it when guys text them every day, or call them, and I find that suffocating. Do you want to know a secret?" she asked in a hushed tone, and Jackson nodded as they pulled up into the driveway.

"I think teddy bears are creepy," she whispered, her eyes wide and honest.

Jackson shook with silent laughter as April continued.

"I mean, why would you give them to your girlfriend? Do you want them to revert to a five year old? And worse, why would you be happy getting one? Do you want to be treated like a five year old?" She scrunched up her face adorably in distaste, and Jackson barely managed to park the car.

* * *

Getting April into the house had been a far more daunting process than Jackson had anticipated. She had waved away his attempts to help her as she tumbled out of the car, barely catching herself, and tottered up to the house, weaving slightly from side to side. He just about managed to stop her from ringing the doorbell—she seemed to have forgotten that she had a key, insisting that it was "the polite thing to do, Jackson!"—and hustled her into the hallway, intending to usher her to her room straightaway, but she got distracted by the light that had been left on in the living room.

"No, Jackson," she whined when he tried to persuade her to go upstairs.

"It's a Friday night, and it's still 9!"

It was 1 a.m.

She broke away from his grasp and plopped down on the couch, rummaging around for the remote and holding it up triumphantly when she found it.

"I'm going to at least watch a movie, and you can join me or be square," she declared, shaking the remote at him.

"Do people still even say that?" Jackson pointed out, amused, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"OK, OK," he said, raising his hands and conceding defeat as he sat down next to her, not wanting to leave her alone in this state. She grinned brilliantly at him and flicked the T.V. on with a dramatic flourish, flipping through the channels until she landed on a black-and-white movie.

They had been watching it for a few minutes before Jackson recognized it.

"Hey, isn't this _From Here to Eternity_?"

She didn't answer.

About to crack a joke about Stark, Jackson looked down teasingly at April, only to realize that she had already fallen asleep.

_That was fast._

Her sleeping face looked so peaceful that he didn't have the heart to wake her up. She would probably get sidetracked into doing something else if she did wake up, he reasoned, and she had another shift tomorrow; she would be absolutely wrecked in the morning. He couldn't just let her sleep on the couch, either: it would probably throw her back out, and she really didn't need that with the hangover she would definitely have in the morning.

Seeing no other alternative, he slid his arms under behind her back and knees, scooping her up. Even with his best effort not to jostle her awake, her eyes fluttered blearily open as he was carefully walking up the stairs.

"Jackson?" she murmured in confusion, and he smiled reassuringly at her.

"Shhh, it's okay. You fell asleep on the couch so I'm just taking you to your room," he told her softly, and he felt his heart thud when she just nodded and closed her eyes, leaning her head against his chest.

* * *

He laid her down on the bed gently, and then drew the covers over her, tucking her in snugly as she stirred.

She saw him hesitate for a second before slipping his hand into hers and giving it a tiny squeeze, bending over her.

"Come and wake me up if you have nightmares again," Jackson said softly before he straightened up and left the room.

Her right hand tingled from his touch.

Somehow, it had felt more intimate to hold his hand than being lifted in his arms. He had hugged her before, after all; they were friends, and they weren't aloof in showing their affection for each other. A slap there, a nudge here—hugs were no exception.

But he'd never held her hand before.

_Stop acting like a child_, April told herself with exasperation before rolling over on her side, wriggling to find a comfortable spot.

When Jackson cracked open the door half an hour later to set a glass of water and aspirin on her bedside table, he found April peacefully asleep, her body curled into herself and her chin tucked under. She had managed to kick her covers off, so he carefully tip-toed into the room to pull them up again. As he closed the door behind him gently, the light cotton sheet settled over her, molding itself to the curves of her body.

It hid how her left hand was cradling her right hand protectively.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own _Grey's_, or the fabulous song that is Billy Joel's "She's Always A Woman" (one of my all-time favorites, which I strongly encourage you to go listen to if you don't know it).

A/N: I love "The Fault in Our Stars" more, but there are few sentences that sum up love better than "We accept the love we think we deserve" (Stephen Chbosky).

This sadly will be the last chapter, and I hope you've enjoyed the journey. If I get more ideas (or if you have ideas), I may post them as one-shots of the same verse, but I don't have any right now, so I think this is a good place to stop. If I get over 100 reviews though (I can't believe I get to say that, thank you all for being so awesome), I shall post an epilogue!

On a side note, I always feel very awkward writing scenes like this, so I hope you like it…now, enough blathering…

* * *

April lay awake in bed, unwilling to get up even after her alarm clock had gone off, setting off the radio. She usually liked her the clock that her sister Kimmie had given her one Christmas for letting her listen to music as she got dressed and ready for the day, but her hand hovered over it today, debating whether to turn it off. She knew her head was going to start throbbing the instant she sat up; that, combined with the foggy ache that usually accompanied a late night with too little sleep, didn't make a very appealing option compared to closing her eyes again.

Not to mention how she would have to face Jackson today.

What she had done last night was cowardly, and she couldn't keep doing it, though the childish part of her urged her to resolve her problems by pretending nothing had happened. She couldn't give in to it this time—she had done enough damage. She couldn't pretend that he was someone who she had just met, someone who hadn't set his issues to one side and been there for her last night, even though he probably had wanted to be anywhere else.

It didn't stop her from wishing with every fiber in her being that she could go back to sleep, to get some temporary reprieve from her problems.

She didn't even know what to say to him yet.

The tinny voice on the radio stopped talking and the tell-tale sound of an old piano started playing, making April's head turn slightly to it. She had always been partial to soft songs with a piano introduction.

_"She can kill with a smile, she can wound with her eyes_

_ She can ruin your faith with her casual lies_

_ And she only reveals what she wants you to see_

_She hides like a child but she's always a woman to me._

_ She can lead you to love, she can take you or leave you_

_ She can ask for the truth but she'll never believe you_

_ And she'll take what you give her as long as it's free_

_Yeah she steals like a thief but she's always a woman to me._

_ Oh, she takes care of herself_

_ She can wait if she wants_

_ She's ahead of her time_

_ Oh, and she never gives out_

_ And she never gives in_

_She just changes her mind..._

_And she'll promise you more than the garden of Eden_

_ Then she'll carelessly cut you and laugh while you're bleeding_

_ But she'll bring out the best and the worst you can be_

_Blame it all on yourself 'cause she's always a woman to me._

_ Oh, she takes care of herself_

_ She can wait if she wants_

_ She's ahead of her time_

_ Oh, and she never gives out_

_ And she never gives in_

_She just changes her mind..._

_ She's frequently kind and she's suddenly cruel_

_ She can do as she pleases she's nobody's fool_

_ And she can't be convicted, she's earned her degree_

_ And the most she will do is throw shadows at you_

_But she's always a woman to me."_

By the time Billy Joel's mournful voice had faded away, tears were flowing freely from April's eyes.

* * *

"Little Miss Sunshine's looking for you," Cristina drawled as she stopped by the nurses' station to pick up some charts, where Jackson was standing, frowning down at a chart in his hand.

"She is?" Jackson asked, distracted. He had been staying out of April's way all day, going so far as to take the stairs once when he saw that she was about to take the elevator. He'd seen her wincing every time someone's voice rose and he didn't want to make her day at work harder by making her feel awkward. It was what she would want. He could always talk to her this evening. Or tomorrow.

He tried to ignore the voice in his head that whispered that it was less for April's sake than for his.

_You're afraid she's going to shut you out again. Or worse, tell you she doesn't have feelings for you. Plus, if she doesn't, when she knows you better than anyone else, what does that say about you?_

But maybe, just maybe, if she was looking for him…

"Did she sound happy or resigned, like in a I-have-to-do-this way?" He couldn't stop himself from asking, and Cristina scowled at him.

"I know what 'resigned' means, Pretty Boy. And no, I didn't really pay attention to how she asked me where you were. Oh, did you have a lovers' tiff? Forgot to kiss her cheek and call her 'honey' this morning?" she asked mischievously, raising an eyebrow and cocking her head expectantly.

"Shut up," Jackson muttered under his breath as he pivoted on his heel, leaving the other resident cackling behind him.

* * *

It was late by the time Jackson got back home, catching the door so it didn't slam behind him. The last patient he had been checking up on with an hour of his shift left to go had had to go into an emergency surgery and he had stayed to scrub in, feeling responsible for her well-being.

He was surprised to find April sitting in the kitchen with a mug between her hands, reading a medical journal.

"Hey, I'd have thought you'd be in bed by now," he greeted her, and April glanced up from her book.

"No, I decided I'd wait for you to get back," she said, closing the book.

An awkward pause reigned.

"So how's your head?" Jackson blurted, feeling oddly jittery and needing to small-talk. He shifted on his feet anxiously. Since when had silence started to feel uncomfortable to him?

"Better than this morning. Thanks for the aspirin," April said with a small smile.

"You're welcome."

Another pause, and then:

"I'm so sorry about—"

"So about last night—"

They both flushed, cutting themselves off abruptly when they realized they had both tried to talk at the same time. April gestured for Jackson to go first.

"So about last night," he started nervously, "was there a reason behind you hitting the bar like an intern? I mean, not that it wasn't fun listening to you talk about your hatred of teddy bears," April's eyes widened in horror, "but I was just wondering, if you had a, um, specific reason…" Jackson watched her reaction carefully.

She bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth.

"I'm not sure what was running through my head," she said finally, "I didn't go to Joe's for the sole intention of getting inebriated. I just…kept drinking. So I wouldn't have to think."

_About us._ The unspoken words hung in the air, but Jackson knew that she was thinking them from her blush.

"Look, April. I get it if it makes you feel uncomfortable, and awkward, around me, but I meant what I said and everything I did, okay? I don't know why you keep skirting around the topic, but it happened, and it happened for a reason, and it felt good," he said, his tone insistent. She looked down, letting her hair swing forward and hide her face.

"Either there's a spark or there's no spark, but you need to tell me. I can't take wondering if you're going to act like nothing's happened every time we potentially cross the line." He placed his hands on the table, leaning across it slightly to try and see her face, but she didn't say anything.

"Damn it, April, what will it take to stop you from shutting me out?" Jackson's voice rose, frustrated, and April finally broke, rising to her feet.

"Don't you get it? I have to. I have to shut you out, before you get inside my head. I'm not the person who just waited for someone to fall into her life, I don't _get_ to be that person. I've never _been_ that person. Nothing's easy for me, I have to work for things. I don't just get someone like you. Someone who…you're too perfect!"

She gestured at him wildly, her eyes blazing.

"Just, who _are_ you? And I'm, well, me." She laughed breathlessly, the sound discordantly harsh and hysterical.

Her hands dropped to her sides as she looked at him helplessly.

"I don't deserve you."

And there it was, Jackson realized. The core of their problems, out in the open. She was finally saying what she was thinking without bolting. Why she kept pushing him away.

He had thought that when this moment came at last, he would feel relieved, but all he could feel was anger. Anger at her for believing it, anger at himself for making her feel inadequate and not recognizing it, for not loving her enough that she realized it.

_"No one's loved me yet."_

He found himself speaking sharply before he realized it.

"No. That's a selfish excuse and I'm not accepting it. It's not fair."

Jackson took a step towards April, who looked gobsmacked. Before she could start to get angry, she continued.

"There's no such thing as who deserves who. No one's keeping a tally. That's not how relationships should work, that doesn't say how you feel about me. That's what you think about yourself, and you're not the only one to think that. Don't you think I think that too? But I'm not going to let it define what we are, and neither should you." He ran a frustrated hand over his head, and met her eyes squarely.

"Just tell me. What do _you_ want?" he asked heatedly, and waited with bated breath.

He couldn't say it any plainer than that; if she still didn't get it, if she didn't want him, he knew that was it. Anything else, they could work through. But this…there was no compromise for this.

He was all in.

She closed her eyes, her face pained, and his heart plummeted. It hadn't been enough. He hadn't managed to reach her.

He was so deep in his wallowing that he almost missed her soft words.

"I want you, I do. I want us."

Tears were glimmering in her eyes, but he paid them no heed. She stepped forward, reaching up to cradle his face in her hands, and all he could do was stare disbelievingly at her smile.

She had said yes.

"Do you mean it?" he asked her fervently, hating how shaky his voice sounded but needing to be sure.

Her eyes never left his.

"I mean it," she answered before she tugged his head down to hers.

Her kiss was just as searing as before, and he responded immediately, feeling her lips curve into a smile when he groaned into her mouth. He drew back to check on her breathlessly.

"Are you sure—"

April cut him off abruptly by grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him towards her.

"Jackson. Stop. Talking," April said intently, her eyes glinting, and Jackson happily obliged, drawing her into another kiss. She twined her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him, and he wrapped his arm around her waist to set her on top of the table without thinking. She hummed with delight when their heads became level, tilting her head so that he could explore her mouth more thoroughly.

He exhaled roughly when her legs wrapped themselves loosely around his waist. He dared to run a hand down her side to her ankle, which tightened around him, urging him to step closer to her so that their bodies were flush against each other. His kiss became more urgent, dipping her slightly over the table, one hand splayed across the small of her back as the other pushed up the bottom of her jeans to draw circles on her bare ankle, and she made an incoherent noise at his touch before she sucked the tip of his tongue. He instantly moaned and rolled his hips into her. She stiffened.

Jackson immediately stood still, horrified that he had forgotten that she was still new to this. He didn't know what April had experience with, but he knew that even if she was fine with it, it was too dangerous to get so carried away. They had barely just said what they meant to each other. It was so tempting to carry her upstairs, but it was much too soon.

He was about to apologize when April rolled her hips firmly against his, silencing him. A low growl came out of his throat as he fought to keep himself in check, breaking their kiss. He leaned his forehead against hers as he panted, trying to catch his breath as he pulled his hand away from her ankle and placed it on the table beside her.

Drawing back, he couldn't suppress a grin at how wrecked she looked, her lips swollen and her eyes dark and inviting.

She blushed fiercely when she realized the position they were in, and she lowered her legs so that they dangled off the table instead.

"Does this mean you'll go out with me?" Jackson asked teasingly, and the brilliant smile and shy nod she gave him in confirmation made his grin broaden.

"And no more running away?" he pressed, his tone becoming more serious.

"And no more running away," April echoed firmly, and he smiled at her tenderly, tucking a lock of her hair that had fallen into her eyes behind her ear.

The sound of the clock chiming 12 made them start, and Jackson held out a hand for her as she hopped off the table, mutually agreeing without words that they should get to bed.

"You know," Jackson said thoughtfully, threading a finger into a belt loop on April's jeans to tug her against him, "this means I can buy you a teddy bear."

April only slapped his shoulder in reply.

As they walked up the stairs hand in hand, Jackson knew there were more issues they had to address in the near future—April's low self-esteem, for one, and the way he avoided getting credit for his work. Their inept ways of communication would surely get them into trouble at some point.

But what mattered was they were going to try.


	10. Epilogue

Disclaimer: I don't own _Grey's_. Or Jamie Cullum's version of "I Only Have Eyes For You", which this fic is named after.

A/N: I'm so sorry for the long wait for the epilogue! I hope it doesn't disappoint. Here you go, as I promised—thank you again for an incredible journey. I've loved hearing from every one of you, and I hope to write more sometime!

* * *

It had barely been a week after they had fought and made up in Meredith's kitchen, but it didn't seem like a week to April. They had slipped into being a couple so easily that she wondered how she hadn't entertained the thought before. It wasn't as if things had changed drastically between them, for they already knew each other, down to how April needed Jackson to crack a joke to relieve her stress while arranging the surgical board and how Jackson needed to vent about the most recent hoops that Sloan made him jump through as his resident.

And yet, things were different.

Like the look of tenderness in his eyes when he teased her. Like how he took every opportunity to touch her arm or give her shoulder a nudge with his or even, on one occasion, tug a lock of her hair playfully. She blushed at the thought before remembering abruptly that she was standing before the door to her office with a dreamy smile.

_Not during work_, she reprimanded herself as she looked around hastily to check that no one had witnessed the chief resident looking spaced out.

Going inside her office, she made a beeline for her fridge, knowing with a heavy heart that it had probably been ransacked by the other residents. It was well in the afternoon, after all, and they had probably eaten already. Having barely had time to sit down all morning, she hoped against hope that they had left her something.

Her jaw dropped when she opened the fridge to find it fully stocked with bottles of water, small Tupperware containers full of dried apricots and walnuts, pots of yogurt, and energy bars.

It was as if she'd stocked it herself.

A bright green Post-It note fluttered to the floor by her feet, and she bent to pick it up, still blinking dazedly at what seemed to be a mirage.

There, in Jackson's loopy handwriting, was a simple message.

"_They have electrolytes!"_

It was what she had screeched at Jackson for stealing food from her fridge, that time months ago when his mother had swept into town with that English doctor.

How had he remembered _that_?

She realized she was still gripping the fridge door, leaving it wide open, and hastily grabbed a container of apricots before shutting it and straightening from the awkward position with a crack of her back. April ignored the momentary pain, hurrying to her desk and rummaging in her drawer. Munching on a dried apricot, she sank into her chair, taking out her flashcards to study for her boards.

The thought of the imminent examinations didn't stop her from glancing up at the Post-It she had pinned on the bottom of her small notice-board from time to time.

Things were decidedly different.

* * *

It was an ordinary morning in the Grey house.

Nothing was out of place. And yet.

Jackson yawned as he entered the kitchen, making his way to the cupboard to pour himself some cereal.

"Morning!" April's cheerful voice rang behind him, and he turned to see her head disappearing momentarily behind the fridge door, coming out with a carton of orange juice.

"Here," she said happily, quickly handing him a full glass. He thanked her automatically and watched her fondly as her expression turned serious for a brief moment, pouring herself a glass neatly.

He turned back to get a spoon for his cereal, and blinked as he realized that two bowls sat innocently on the counter, with April's favorite cereal beside them.

He hadn't even noticed he had done it.

Judging from April's soft "oh", she had noticed.

Jackson felt her hand touch his shoulder gently, and the appreciative look she gave him made him lean forwards instinctively, capturing her bottom lip between his tenderly. He savored the lingering kiss, how she tasted of peppermint and how soft her lips were, before he drew away slowly.

"Good morning," he murmured lowly, a tendril of satisfaction unfurling inside him at the sight of her dilated pupils. He instantly wanted to kiss her again, but common sense took over: the others would be downstairs soon, and he didn't want to start out the day by flustering her. She smiled warmly at him when he held up the cereal box questioningly, their hands brushing lightly as he handed it over to her.

He busied himself with fixing his own breakfast, flicking on the radio to distract himself before he sat down at the table.

_"Maybe millions of people go by, but they all disappear from view_

_I only have eyes for you"_

Jackson almost stood to change the channel on the radio to the news but paused, listening to the song. It was overly sentimental—a typical love ballad—but there was just something about it that drew his attention.

_"My love must be some kind of blind love_

_I don't see anybody but you"_

He shook his head to himself as the song ended on a mournful note. He looked up and saw April was staring thoughtfully at him, her fingers curved delicately around her spoon.

Their eyes caught for one immeasurable moment.

The sound of Meredith and Cristina's familiar half-bickering, half-teasing voices drifted down the stairs, breaking the tranquility of the moment, as Alex shuffled sleepily into the room, Lexie hot on his heels.

"If you'd stop hogging the shower, we wouldn't be cutting it so fine," she sniped at Alex, slapping his hand away from the coffee pot to pour herself a cup first.

Alex's customary grunt of "whatever" was drowned out by the sound of Meredith's laughter as she walked into the kitchen with Cristina, though it was cut short when Alex turned and almost walked into Cristina.

"Watch where you're going, Evil Spawn!" Cristina snapped, side-stepping neatly.

Alex only rolled his eyes in response.

It was strange how he'd found a family with such a crazy bunch of surgeons, after all his years of trying to deal with his surgery-hungry blood relatives, Jackson mused as he looked around the crowded room with a quirk of his lips. He caught April's eye again, who smiled sweetly back at him, her eyes twinkling as if she knew what he was thinking.

He grinned into his bowl of cereal.

No, he decided, the song was wrong. It hadn't been some kind of blind love that had led him to April. It had crept up on him, slowly but surely stitching itself into place with such precision that he would have been a fool to ignore it in the face of such certainty, the same glorious instinct thrumming in his veins that he got as a surgeon when things were falling into place as they should be. They fit together.

It felt _right_.


End file.
